


fall into me, my love.

by parischangedher



Category: NCIS
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Episode: s09e12 Housekeeping, F/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parischangedher/pseuds/parischangedher
Summary: In which Ray never called, they went for that drink, and grew tired of pretending. Closing one chapter and preparing to start anew.Rewrite and continuation of the last scene in 9x12, Housekeeping.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	fall into me, my love.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written based on a prompt from the great @saraluvstiva on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy!

Hope was a dangerous thing.

There was a reason he never let himself think about her like that. Not seriously, anyway. And not in a very, very, very long time.

_“I’m not talking about movies, Tony. I’m talking about you. She cares.”_

He had reverted back to the standard old lines, then, and scoffed about how they were partners and teammates who had each other’s backs. Those lines were good. They protected him and their relationship. He told himself for years that anything else between them would be unthinkable. Inappropriate. Comical, even.

Yeah, right.

Her words, simple yet bold, took hold in his mind and wouldn’t let up.

They hit him when he was woefully unequipped to fend them off as he usually did. There was a crack in his armor, in the wall he built around himself to protect the both of them. It had been breaking slowly, really, ever since they brought her back from the dead in Somalia. It almost shattered completely after he was shot a few months ago and faced the prospect of dying without ever _telling her_. He was more fragile than ever these days, too, since falling out with EJ and painfully watching his partner hurt over another, undeserving man.

And so, when he heard EJ talk about her like that, the possibility of more seeped through the cracks and into his heart. It coaxed his feelings to the surface, fully awakening what he had known yet staunchly denied for years.

He loved her.

Admitting it to himself was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Give him a burning building, a terrorist, a raging gunman, or a bomb on a timer—fine—he could handle that. That was easy—relatively. But love? The old Anthony DiNozzo didn’t do love.

There was just something about her—the complex dichotomies of softness and strength, of love and hurt, of anger and loyalty—that fascinated him, pulling him to her like gravity. She was an enigma that only he seemed to truly understand; and damnit, he wanted to spend the rest of his life unlocking the key to her soul. She made him better, too—pushing him to open up and grow up, never taking his crap, molding him slowly into half the man she actually deserved.

Despite how hard she tried to hide it, he knew she had strong feelings for him too. He could see it in the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention—adoringly and longingly, as if imagining a world in which they could actually be something. He felt it in the way she stole soft and lingering touches, standing closer than necessary on an almost daily basis; and he heard it when she talked to him—sometimes concernedly, sometimes flirtatiously, sometimes even annoyedly, but always with love.

Denying how he felt about her was making less and less sense to him by the minute these days. He was filled with regret for wasted time and, still, fear of damaging their bond. But most of all, he was filled with a deep-seated ache for her. For all of her. And for the first time, the latter was starting to win.

Hearing EJ’s words was the final nail in the coffin, if he was honest with himself. They were validation that it wasn’t all in his head. They gave him hope—and with it, a touch of recklessness, encouraging him to ignore the fear for once and play with the fire that is Ziva David. It had been about seven years, after all. If not now, then when?

“Agent David. Do you really consider me to be…in your life?”

His eyes glistened with a mix of hope, boldness, and vulnerability. He watched her carefully as she processed his verbal challenge, seeing how she’d react—if she’d push them closer to the edge or rein him in.

She tilted her head ever so slightly, taken aback by his question. Instinctually, she opened her mouth to disarm the situation, as they usually did whenever the other got too close to the truth.

The look of adoration in his eyes made her pause, though. Ray’s communication and commitment issues served as a strong contrast to the man in front of her, who listened to and supported her whether or not she asked.

She was tired of waiting seven weeks for a man who claimed to love her, when the one she could not live without was standing right in front of her. She was tired of being treated like an afterthought. She was tired of it all. She was so tired, in fact, that she decided to cut the double entendres and answer him honestly. He deserved that, at the very least.

“I do.”

His smile grew brighter, then, and she couldn’t help but return it. He reached out and softly grazed her arm. It was fleeting, another test. A small thrill ran through her as she wondered what had gotten into him, and she raised her eyebrows in silent question.

“Let’s go get that drink.”

* * *

“Admit it. You never liked her,” Tony teased as he downed the last of his beer and gestured for another. They sat in a corner booth in a dimly lit bar that neither frequented. On some level, she hoped he chose it exactly for that reason—to make sure they weren’t interrupted by someone they knew, or to mark the beginning of…something. Of them. Maybe.

“Who?” she asked playfully.

“EJ,” he replied, calling her bluff by the look on his face.

“Oh. Her.”

“Yeah, her. You didn’t exactly welcome her with open arms. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Let’s just say that I am glad she is gone.”

“Why?”

She hesitated briefly, contemplating, before she responded.

“She is not good enough for you.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Maybe she was right after all.”

“Right about what?”

Tony smiled a bit nervously and took another sip of his drink as Ziva waited, watching him closely with _that look_. He could just tell her about the movie aspect of the conversation. It wouldn’t be a lie, really, and it would keep them safely within their bounds. But he was sick of the games, of the walls. Plus, he was a little bit tipsy.

He decided to go for it. Throw it out into the open. Play with the fire.

“When we were at the safe house, she said that you care. About me.”

"Wow, such an astute observation by a brilliant, brilliant woman,” she said, rolling her eyes. Tony chuckled at her brashness, reminiscent of how she was when they first met. But he said nothing, wanting to hear her real response.

“Of course I do, Tony,” she said eventually with a soft smile on her face. “You are my partner.”

“Right,” he said, deflated.

“And sometimes,” she continued breathily, finally feeling the effects of her third drink. “You are even my friend.”

“Wow,” he said, cracking a smile and accepting her amended answer—for now. “I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

He laughed, and she did too.

And, he was.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“We have indeed. It is a miracle, really, given how intimidated you were when we first met.”

“I was not!” he exclaimed, knowing full well that she was right. Not that he’d ever admit it. “If anyone was intimidated, it was you.”

“Tony,” she said amusedly. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “I suppose you do.”

She shot him a genuine smile; a happy and peaceful look graced her features.

“Seriously though, Tony. I think we’ve both grown quite a bit.”

“We most certainly have,” he laughed. “Remember when you secretly tried Air Guitar?”

Her mouth dropped. “How did you know about that?!”

“When you uploaded it later that night, my computer saved a copy.”

“Oh, sure it did. Just like it autonomously saved those bikini photos, yes?”

“Exactly,” he replied, winking at her.

“You also posted your ass on that stupid website.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, cringing at the memory. “But, you rated it.”

“A 2.”

“A 5, if I remember correctly.”

“Only if you shaved.”

They laughed, enjoying their banter. She took another swing of her drink, reflecting on how far they’d come over the years—how close they’d gotten. When she had first arrived at NCIS, she thought he was a womanizing goofball, a hormonal teenager in an adult’s body—albeit, an attractive body. As the years went on, though, he snuck by her well-built defenses and managed to take up residence inside her heart. She still wasn’t quite sure how he did so, as no other man had been able to break into her life like that.

And now? After everything they had been through together, she was tired of pretending. She knew she loved him, and that he knew too. They basically admitted as much back in Africa—him to her face, and her to the journals she kept in her office. They’d been dancing around each other for years, backing away whenever someone got too close. Part of it was, of course, not wanting to jeopardize their partnership.

But truthfully, she knew that was bullshit.

She was scared. She was scared of losing him. Everyone she had ever loved up to this point died, sometimes even in her arms. He was the most important person in the world to her, and the thought of something happening to him because of her was almost too much to bear.

But then, something did happen to him. He almost died. And it had nothing to do with her.

She wasn’t even there to protect him.

That night had shaken her to the core; it forced her to question all the reasons she had been keeping him at arm’s length, never letting him in for more than a few blissful moments. She still tried to distance herself and make it work with Ray; but, she was reminded of her losing battle whenever she saw him looking at her like she was the only thing on Earth that mattered.

The fear of him dying without ever telling him the truth had finally eclipsed her fear of losing him.

She wanted to stop pretending, finally. She suspected he did too, based on their interactions today.

They just couldn't waste any more time.

“I have a question.”

“Shoot,” he answered. “Figuratively, of course.”

She giggled. Actually _giggled._ God, how he loved that sound.

“Of all the ones we have worked on together, what has been your favorite case?”

“Oh, tough one David,” he grinned.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “We, uh…we make a good team. There have been a lot of good ones.”

“True,” she said, smiling softly.

“If you force my hand, though, I’d have to say Paris. It is a _magical_ place,” he said with a flirtatious lilt in his voice and a knowing smirk.

“I should have guessed,” she replied. “I loved…Paris, too.”

He raised his eyebrows at her comment; she returned the gesture.

“And you?”

She bit her lip, debating whether she should tell him the truth. This was her chance. She was still scared, but she was also a little drunk by now, and hell, she honestly wanted him to know.

She wanted him to know _everything._

“Well,” she began with a small smile on her face. “I liked them all. Or, most of them, like you. We make even the toughest cases enjoyable, when we work together.”

He smiled, opening his mouth to respond before she cut him off.

“But, to be perfectly honest with you,” she continued, boldly meeting his eyes. “My favorite was when we were under covers.”

"I think you mean undercover.”

She clucked her tongue playfully and softly touched his hand, drawing small circles and shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Tony’s eyes widened at her openly flirting with him as she smiled suggestively. He hadn’t seen this side of her, directed at him, in years. His mind was going a mile a minute trying to process it and what it meant for them. If it meant anything at all.

Taking one look at her eyes, though, he knew it meant something. It meant something big. Her eyes always spoke the truth—when it came to him, anyway.

She was pleased with herself. She managed to tell him while still giving him an out, if he wanted. She spoke their coded tongue.

Doing cartwheels in his head, he grinned back at her and boldly turned his hand over to take hold of hers, interlacing their fingers. He couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he wanted to do that.

He saw a flash of fear and surprise cross her eyes before being quickly replaced with something that could only be described as contentment.

“I wonder what it would be like if we did that again sometime. Went undercover, I mean,” he said, testing the waters with insinuations and metaphors just as she did. That was their language. If they were to even begin talking about the possibility of them, they both knew this was the easiest way to do it. At first, anyway.

She opened her mouth but said nothing at first, thinking of the best response. She felt the room’s temperature rise as he reciprocated her subtle advances and pushed her further.

She would not be outdone.

“I’d like that. We would be… _good_ at it, too.”

He raised his eyebrows with a sly smile on his face.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.”

“Ray? Oh, he is done. As soon as I talk to him, I am ending it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She looked at him more seriously now, with a hint of curiosity.

"He isn’t good enough for you.”

She smiled, touched by his admission.

This was it.

The dance was ending.

* * *

“You didn’t have to walk me home, Tony. I am fine.”

“I know you are,” he replied. “But, I’m a DiNozzo. We are gentlemen.”

She laughed, sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. She held it, though, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He pulled her a little closer, then. Her arm was tucked into his as they walked down the cold sidewalk, street glistening with the light of the stars and the snow flurries that started to fall.

“I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” he said honestly.

As they approached her apartment, his heart raced faster. With EJ gone, Ray practically a done deal, their earlier conversations and the buzz in their systems, it seemed the perfect time to ask, if he was ever going to do so.

Would it ruin everything?

Or…would it _be_ everything?

What the hell. He loved her.

He wiped his clammy hands on his coat and took the shot.

“I would, uh, like to do it again sometime. If you want. For…for real.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, a silent question in her eyes.

His own tried desperately to answer.

_Yes._

“After you break up with him.”

Understanding flashed across her face, to be quickly replaced with a dash of fear. He could see her wheels turning.

He could feel his own fear rising as he watched her. She saw it, though, and immediately softened her gaze, comforting him.

Placing a hand on his chest, she felt his heart race.

She smiled softly, making her choice. It was time to stop the game.

“I’d like that too.”

“Well then,” he said, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s a date.”

She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, her other hand moving to his neck. His heart beat even faster as her touch lingered on his skin, leaving its mark. Claiming him.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

She held his gaze for a moment, delicately caressing his face before starting the ascent to her door.

“Ziva,” he said loudly.

She turned around to face him, at the top of the stairs now.

“Yes?”

“I’m happy you’re in my life, too.”

She nodded, smiling as she recalled their earlier conversation. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Good night, Tony. Text me when you get home.”

“I will. Good night.”

She lingered a few moments more, staring into him before stepping inside.

In all of the years they spent working together, that was the first time she asked that of him. It wasn’t at all necessary—they both knew it—but it was loving. Another metaphor.

He could get used to this.


End file.
